


The Eldritch

by Jeff_Excellence



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Seinfeld
Genre: Crack, Foul, M/M, Other, Wretched, horrible, sinful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 14:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17962601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeff_Excellence/pseuds/Jeff_Excellence
Summary: Jerry Seinfeld invokes the wrath of the greatest self-insert of all time and pays for his sins.





	The Eldritch

Jerry strolled into the room with a spring in his step. “Costanza, have you ever invoked the wrath of the son of Cthulhu?”

 

“All the time,” said Costanza, completely failing to elaborate. “Why do you ask?”

 

“Well, you see:”

 

It was not often that Jerry lost his cool, but this was one of those times as he fell to his knees, forcing all the air out of his lungs like blood from a stone in one almighty scream. It was a scream that would have sent shivers down the spine of a dead oak tree.

 

Costanza refused to indulge Jerry’s psychobabble, taking one glance at his broken comrade before grabbing his steaming hot mug of coffee everywhere except the handle and chugging it all. The destruction of his entire respiratory system was preferable to the indignity of using a handle to drink his beverage.

 

So engrossed was Costanza in his piping hot beverage that the six-foot-six levitating mass of muscles, seven-foot-seven brown hair, and boombox blaring old Genesis records completely escaped his attention.

 

“Jerry Seinfeld, you are a coward, a fool, and a very small man!” declared Leonard Coolguy as he fired lasers from his blood red eyes, melting straight through his aviator sunglasses and causing copious amounts of property damage.

 

“Costanza, help me!”

 

“Sorry, Jerry; this is your burden.”

 

For a brief moment, a very specific look had been chiselled into the rock that was Jerry’s face. It was the look of a man who had been to the gates of Heaven, crossed beyond the known and seen sights that one trillion minds could not begin to fathom. Sights that had burned into his very psyche, destroyed all of Jerry’s knowledge of what it meant to be human. This was a man who had been past the all-consuming claws of sanity and into lands unknown, who had lived but could not even begin to speak the tale.

 

And then he was gone, to the complete and utter indifference of one George Costanza.

 

Leonard Coolguy approached Costanza, who turned around and liked very much what he saw. “Come, my boy,” said Coolguy the cool guy to the lovestruck fool before him, who took his hand, and the two went into the burning New York sunset hand-in-hand. 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Jerry found himself in a pit of damnation, hungry scarabs covering every inch of his body, when a face so gormless its owner’s identity was unmistakable, greeted him.

“Boy, it's like the ninth circle of Hell in here!” observed Kramer, with a content grin.

 

Jerry was rather rude and deeply ungrateful in reply. “K̷̵̛͙̘͍̤̩̘̤̰ͤ̎͊͒͘͢R̡̧̤̳͎̪̘̼͙̦̤̝̜̣̟̜̦̜ͤ͛̂ͩ͒̾͒ͫͪ̍͋̽̒͗̈́͛͢ͅA̲͍̜͈̠̣̤̹͚͔̔́ͬ͐̐ͦ̀͌ͤ̊̇͟Ḿ̑̇͊͗͘͠҉̝̥̼̗̻̼̳͉͉̖̦̳ͅẺ̴̶̡̨̮̗̙̤̯̹̣̥͖͈̰͎͙͇̘̱ͧͨ̀̽̑ͧ̈̒R̬̙̺̲̼͉͉̱̙͋̀ͦ̈ͨ̓̈̈͊ͦ̚̚̕͠ ̴̛͈̣͔̤̹̠̮̥̼͌͌ͩ̇̆̎̓͗ͥ͝H̢͔̯͔̪͔̘̣̤̟̺͔̩̦̜̅ͩ͊͒̇̇ͫ̃̎̽ͨ̿͌̋ͣ͢͢͢͝Ě̴̼̞̤̮̳̖ͬͪ͐̔͑ͣ͊ͤ̚͝Ļ̊ͧͧ̄̎̒ͥ̈̓̃̎̈́ͬ̌̇͑͗͆͏̸̹̜̙P̢͓̹͉ͩ̀̍ͫͩ͑ͯͩ̋ͬ̎ ́̿͂͂ͮ̌ͩ̏̎ͤ̍̄̋̔̆̚҉̨̡̜̗̭̺̥̯̫̭M̷̵̶̛̗̳̦̮̳̥̙̮̜̘̭̣̮̥̤͙̮͖̰̒̊ͬ͗ͪ̍ͪ̐̋̐̒̇ͬͥ̄ͩ̏͐Ę̨̢̝̫͚͉̲̘̭̼ͨ͐ͥ́̔ͪ̓͡͠”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few months ago for my school's creative writing club and I am so deeply sorry


End file.
